Page 138 of Of Nine So Bold

I shivered, at a loss for what to say.

“We’ll rebuild.” Niko’s quiet voice made it sound like a certainty. “Or they will.” He twitched his chin at the larger giants up ahead. “The living always rebuild somehow.”

Byron shifted his shoulders. “Excuse me.” Not waiting for anyone to respond, he walked faster, going to join Ignatius ahead.

I exhaled slowly. The task ahead of him was immense. It had to be hard to even fathom how to rebuild the Order, on some level. But I’d find a way to help, either with resources or reparations or the gods knew what.Yes, Aneira was falling apart as well now, thanks to my stepmother. But somehow, I’d do it. The gods knew my people owed the Erenlians for this horror.

And he was my friend. That’s what friends should do.

Time slid by, and the terrain became rougher. Outcroppings of stone broke through the snow, gradually growing to enormous cliffs. Dried creek beds carved paths through the landscape, forming canyons overhung by icicles.

The giants followed the trail of a dried-up creek, eschewing the leafless forest that climbed over the sheer cliffs on either side. Far above us, trees clung by their roots to the rocky ledges, casting our path in shadow. Fewer signs of the war surrounded us here, the evidence likely washed away by a river that probably returned in springtime.

But the silence remained, and the feeling of being an intruder in the land of ghosts did too. A cluster of deer stood atop a cliff, staring down at us with no sign of knowing they should be afraid. Beneath a scraggly bush, a fox studied us without fear before spotting Ruhl and then disappearing quickly back into a rotting log.

The stone walls of the chasm drew in closer and closer as the hours went on, making our footsteps echo from cliffs rising several hundred feet high. The ground began to slope upward,until we were scaling the side of what might have once been a waterfall. There was no sign of the river, no hint of any water flow, but the snow still conspired to turn the rocks slippery.

Gripping a large stone for balance, I pulled myself up the slope. Our path seemed tiered in a way that reminded me of massive stairs. Occasionally, rotted stumps of wood stuck out from the rocks, their placement too regular to be natural, hinting that perhaps a banister had bordered this route in the past.

Yet even with that assistance, I couldn’t imagine how the giants could have used this as a reasonable access to Syloria—to say nothing of invading Aneirans. Even the larger giants were in danger of slipping, and that was without a waterfall soaking everything.

But then, maybe there was another access route elsewhere. Or maybe the rough path meant soldiers couldn’t have come this way.

Ahead, the other giants slowed as they reached the top. Murmurs passed among them of worry and wonder. Their eyes were locked on something beyond the edge of the cliff, and even Byron barely glanced at us when we climbed up to his side.

“Wow,” Clay whispered.

Beyond the missing waterfall, the ground turned into a massive basin surrounded by rough cliffs and rocky slopes. Nestled at the far end, an enormous building rested against the side of a mountain. Its gray walls merged into the landscape as if the structure was a natural outcropping of the stone slope. The central part of the structure rose at least a hundred feet high, with marble columns flanking where massive doors once stood. Twin wings of the building stretched away on either side, both of them three giant-sized stories tall with countless remnants of glass glinting in their windows.

But that was not what stole my breath.

Above the structure, stone had been fashioned into the shape of an enormous waterfall tumbling down hundreds of feet from the mountainside onto the temple. Metal tiles glinted along its length, creating an imitation of the shimmer of water, while veins of minerals in the stone did the same.

When the enormous sculpture reached the roof, the artistry continued. The stone and metal spread out and curved, pouring over the edges of the building. In shimmering rivulets, they threaded between the windows and columns, flowing down the walls and pooling at the base, until the temple appeared embraced by the water-like stone.

“Syloria,” Ignatius whispered like he’d come home.

I stared in wonder. Secluded as it was, the temple had not gone untouched by damage over the years. Patches of metal tiles seemed to be missing on the massive stone waterfall, creating dull spots in the glimmering cascade where time or the weather had torn them down. Likewise, the wall of one building wing had cracked and crumbled when boulders from a nearby cliff had fallen against them in an avalanche. Some of the windows were broken, letting rain and snow reach whatever lay inside.

But if the war had found Syloria, I could see no sign.

Dumbstruck, I followed the giants toward the temple. The ground of the basin was rough, with little evidence of grass or plant life at the deeper center, though where the terrain sloped upward to the edges of the valley, gnarled trees clung to the earth.

“This isn’t right,” Niko murmured.

I looked over at him. “What’s wrong?”

He blinked like he didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud. “No, sorry. Just… Clay?” He turned to the blond giant. “Is this what I think it is?”

“A lakebed,” Clay confirmed, eyeing our surroundings with a wary look. “Or it should be.”

Niko nodded like that was what he’d been thinking.

Oh no. “But if we’re supposed to be here because of the waters of Syloria…”

“Yup.” Clay scuffed his boot on the gravel that should have been at the bottom of a lake. “Where’s it gone?”

Dread sank over me. Whatever came of the fact Niko was currently in contention for a crown—gods help us—we’d traveled all this way because Ignatius thought Syloria could help against my stepmother.

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